Knowing Is Not Enough (14 page)

Being his normal wonderful self, Sanford appeared to delight in the moment. I, on the other hand, wanted to get the conversation started. All of this self-talk I had going on inside my head—at least he would be present for this half of the conversation. Sanford raised my chin. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m ready to talk about you leaving.”

“I’m not leaving right now, but I’ve been trying to get on board with a project at the Research Institute. It’s only
for a few months.”

I circled my straw inside my cup. “When will you know?”

“It could be a few days or weeks. I don’t know, but whenever they do tell me, I’ll have to go.”

I looked at him. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Honest—I forgot about it.”

“So what brought it back up?”

Sanford took a sip of his shake. “An email,” he said and swallowed. “I read it last night—now I’m telling you.”

I twirled my straw in the shake a few more times before taking another sip. Sanford finished his drink, got up and threw the cup in the trash. The drama queen in me struggled to enjoy the moment. I hadn’t gotten a chance to settle into our new status of
More Than Friends
before it was over with. Sanford returned to the table and checked his watch. Rearing back in his chair, he rubbed his hands across the top of his jeans. “You think you’re about ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m finished.”

“You sure? I’m not trying to rush you,” he said.

“No, I don’t have much of an appetite anymore.”

Sanford took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not leaving the planet.”

“I know, but I think I’m allowed to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed I get, but you don’t think you’re getting too worked up?”

This is silly
. “You know me—
the sky is falling
. I’m okay.”

Sanford put his glasses back on and grabbed my hand as we walked our green mile back in the direction of the
theatre. My excitement over the newness of this relationship just got a strong shot of reality. Sanford’s absence would be physical and temporary, but I couldn’t shake or define what I was experiencing. What I did know was that it didn’t feel like we were at the beginning of something—not anymore.

I liked where we were, just wished it could have lasted a little longer.

I watched Sanford sleep, and worry about the time he won't be in bed beside me. I should savor this moment, but I can't stop thinking of when we stopped talking last year, presumably forever, only to return for a reconciliation, friendship, and then romance. Life should be lived in the moment, not in my head, but I don’t know how to turn it off.

Sunday afternoon, Sanford headed home to grade papers. I needed to get some work done, too. In his absence I kept thinking about when he was leaving.
What will I do while he’s gone? Maybe we should put things on hold until he returns? My adult self realizes any sort of label is juvenile, but the girl inside knows they serve a distinct purpose. Absent the definition, I don’t know who I am or what, if anything I should do
.

Finally, a few cups of coffee helped me settle into a groove dictating notes from the last session with a patient when my cell phone rang. The caller ID showed Sanford’s face. I hesitated then answered. “Hey is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m outside. Can you open the door?” His words didn’t match his tone.
The Research Institute got
back in touch with him
.

“All right.”

I rushed downstairs to open the door. Sanford stood on the porch with a printout of an email. He silently stepped inside and handed it to me. Sanford’s achieving his dream meant moving farther away from me. I handed it back to him. “So, what does this mean?”

“You just read the email. It’s all spelled out.”

I stroked my fingers across my forehead to smooth out the worry lines. “I know—I’m sorry, it was a silly question.” I wrapped my arms around Sanford and squeezed him. “Congratulations, honey. I’m happy for you.”

He leaned away, looked into my eyes seeming to search for sincerity.

“For real, I am.”

He leaned back into the embrace. “Thank you.”

I released my grip and stepped away to face him, “You have a week? That’s all . . . kind of soon, isn’t it?”

“Not really—considering we wrote the grant six months ago.”

Sanford followed me up the stairs to my bedroom. Inside, I felt an overwhelming urge to get back into bed and pull the covers over my head. Sanford took a seat at the foot of my bed awaiting my next response.

“Hit me with the headliner. You said a week, but what day are you leaving?”

“Wednesday.”

“What about your classes?”

“They’ll get a replacement for the rest of the year. I’ll return in six months.”

“Six months?” I pulled my legs from underneath him
into my chest. Sanford took in a deep breath, and exhaled as he sat back up.

“Seriously—are you that worried about this?”

“I am. I think us, you and me, as a couple, we’re new—Sanford, you don’t think six months is a long time?” Sanford hung his head, but didn’t offer a response. “I think we should put things on hold,” I said without thinking.

“Where did that come from?”

“I know I’m making a bigger deal out this than it needs to be, but I can’t help it.” Sanford’s eyes narrowed as he glared at me looking befuddled from my unraveling.

“This is too much to undertake all at once,” I said.

A noise from the street broke the tension. Sanford stood up to investigate from the window to the street below. “For you or me?” he asked.

“Both of us.”

Sanford sat back down at the foot of the bed.

“I want a relationship,” I explained, “but not long distance.”

“This is starting to sound like an ultimatum. You want
a relationship
or you want me?”

“Believe me,” I said, “I want you, but six months is a long time.”

Sanford stood up and walked to the door. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I have a lot to do before Wednesday.”

“Okay.”

Sanford walked out the room tapping the doorframe with his hand as he went through it. “You don’t have to get up. I’ll let myself out.”

I heard his footsteps rush down the stairs, the lock twist and door close. I don’t remember Prince Charming running away from Cinderella.
Any romantic notion I had for a fairytale ending was over
.

“At least I know why we’re watching this stupid movie again.” Linda scooped up another cup of popcorn. “So what did you expect? He was going to look longingly in your eyes and say, Alex, my darling—I love you and ain’t no mountain high enough to keep me from getting to you, baby.”

“I’m not your entertainment for today. If you going to be sarcastic, at least you could get the song right.”

“That’s how it goes?”

“It’s babe, not baby. I came over here to watch my depressing movie in peace.”

She laughed. “It’s baby, and if you wanted peace, you should’ve stayed home.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha, ha, ha. You’re so funny.”

Linda laughed, nodding her head. “I have my moments of comedic genius.”

“They’re rare . . . ”

“Rare, but funny. So let’s get into it. What did you expect him to say . . . no, better yet, do?”

Linda starred appearing to await my response. I
grabbed another handful of popcorn and pointed at the television screen. “You see there . . . that’s what
I
expected.”

Linda raised an eyebrow. “I could’ve told you that wasn’t going to happen.”

I said, “Next time I’ll have to consult you first. I don’t think my expectations could have gotten any lower.” I sat silently for a second. “At the risk of putting this out there—”

“What?”

I sighed. “Okay, it did occur to me if Jake couldn’t be faithful here, how do I know Sanford will be in D.C.?”

Linda jumped out of her seat with the speed of light. “Now we’re getting somewhere. First of all, Sanford’s not Jake, and if memory serves me correct, you and Sanford are just friends . . . right?”

“Right . . . well, sort of right.”

She reached over and gave me a flick to the shoulder. She picked up the controller from the coffee table and muted the television. “Right?”

“Okay,” I said. “I may have left some parts out.”

“What parts?”

“Sanford and I have been dating for about a month now—maybe a little longer.”

“You got to be kidding me!” Linda’s mouth was wide enough for me to throw a few puffed kernels in.

“Yeah and it was great until he dropped his little bomb about leaving for D.C.”

“Oh, Alex, you could have worked through that.”

I sighed. “I know. Believe me I knew I messed up the second he left.”

She flicked her fingers against my arm. “Call him—
you can fix this.”

“Nope, I’m going to let this one play out.”

“That’s a mistake.”

I nodded in agreement. “Probably, I’m getting pretty good at making mistakes.”

I scratched my head as we both turned to watch the ending of the movie. Linda said, “See, even Meg Ryan had to leave Seattle to get her man. You could do that.”

“Do what? Go get him?”

“Yeah, go out there.”

I tilt my head starring at the television. “You crazy—I’m not doing that.” I took a sip of wine. “Tom kind of looks like Sanford—with the long hair. You notice that?”

Linda grabbed my arm and shook it. “It’s a sign . . . you need to go to D.C. and get your man.”

“Oh that’s going to happen—oh in—Nevuary.”

“No, I’m serious,” she laughed.

“I don’t think so. I’m not trying to get frequent flyer miles on my broken heart.”

Linda silently turned back to the television. “Think positive,” she said. “You never know what life has in store for you.”

We swapped glances as Meg, Tom and Jonah entered the elevator. The elevator doors close to what we assume would be the beginning of their new lives. “One door closes, and another one opens,” I said.

“See,” Linda said, pointing. “You never know—that could be you.”

“It’s what happens after the doors close that’s got me worried.”

“What do you think—Tom is beating the shit out of
her in front of the kid in the elevator?” Linda stood up from the couch and cut the television off. “Go get your man, Alex, and stop watching these stupid movies.”

I’m characteristically bound by my error in judgment.

It’s been a month, feels like a year, and any respectful timeframe I had to throw myself on the sword of mistakes begging his forgiveness has passed. He’s there and I’m here.

We’ve managed to come full circle yet again, not talking. It was five o’clock, not long after Tobey’s shift started. I needed to get out from inside my own head. I sent a text telling her I wanted to get together. She agreed.

The drive to the hospital gifted me with more unwanted thinking time. Unnecessary thinking time. In between music, announcements and station breaks I realized something about myself.
I know how to get married (and divorced, for that matter). What I don’t know is how to sustain a relationship beyond euphoria through the impending unavoidable emotional mind fields to a cohabitation that’s calm. It’s the middle . . . always difficult to make it through the middle, and this time around the “feel better” is taking longer. I’m a silhouette of my old self, but doing what’s needed to feel connected again isn’t appealing to me
.